Chapter 47
He refilled my wine glass and suggested we have a toast.
??To what??? I asked.
??I don??t know. To life, man.??
??Fine,?? I said with a smile, raising my glass. ??To life.??
We clinked glasses and drank up.
* * * *
In the morning, Neal and I had breakfast prepared by and with Rosalinda before heading to the driving range. After hitting golf balls for a while and having lunch, my brother and I hung out together running last-minute errands around town before his trip. That evening, we had dinner with his daughter Heather, whose mouth never stopped moving the entire time we were together. The ginger-haired girl (who looked almost exactly like her ginger-haired mother) rambled on and on about school, television, white tigers, vegetarianism, and any other subject that happened to pass through her cluttered thirteen-year-old mind. Just listening to her was exhausting.